Protection of a Squib, Two Muggles, & Their Infant Son
by Dear Pigfarts. Love the Doctor
Summary: When Harry Potter is sent to live with his Aunt and Uncle on Private drive, someone else is sent as well. Arabella Figg did not sign up as a babysitter when she joined the Order, but maybe that's all she's good for?


As she carried her bags over the threshold, she looked around the reasonably sized living room. With a deep prolonged breath eyes swept across the faded wood and clipped paint, while her nose was assaulted with the strange smell, somewhat like cabbages, that accompanied her new home. On Dumbledore's orders, she had moved from her quaint little home by the Leaky Cauldron to this shabby shack which they called a house. This was all to be close enough to watch over the wizarding world's new legend, Harry Potter, as he grew. She knew, deep, deep down, it was for the best; for him to be placed here. However, not once did she agree that taking him out of the wizarding world was a good plan. _Merlin_. Did they really think that two muggles, their infant son, and an almost crippled squib could do anything if the Dark Lord's followers turned up at the door of number four, Privet drive, seeking revenge?

With a heaving sigh, she opened the moving crate and watched, with a small smile, as her precious cats explored their new home. With one sniff the oldest, Mr Tibbs turned back to her with a look that insinuated personal offence to their new living quarters.  
"I know, I don't like it either," she muttered as she set to work unpacking box after box of her belongings, "and what kind of moron would paint the wall this horrible shade of pink?" She said, her noise scrunching up as she ran a finger across the peeling paint.  
"You did." A voice came from the door-way behind her. Albus Dumbledore was standing just inside, clad in a brown muggle suit, which did not look half bad on the aging man. "Remember Arabella, you live here. This is now _your_ house now." She sighed.  
"Yes, Sir. That does not mean I don't hate it…" she looked around, "can I do anything about the colour?" With a small smile Dumbledore raised his wand and the walls quickly shifted from the putrid pink to a beautiful teal.  
"Thank you, Sir," she whispered.  
"I want you to be comfortable here," he smiled. Just as he turned to leave he said, "Someone will come by every week to visit, so you don't get too lonely."

And that they did. Every week a member of the Order or one of her old friends came to visit her home, and every week the place looked cleaner, brighter, more homely. But soon, every week turned into every two, and then every month until the only company she had was that of her cats, and every now and then, a young Mr Potter. She felt so cut off from the Wizarding world, that when Dedalus Diggle came to visit one day, on the anniversary of You-Know-Who's demise, she almost attacked him for information. He had told her everything she had asked and even that he had met the young Potter. But despite that and the monthly letters from her aged sister, Arabella was lonely. This was not helping her health, which had been dwindling over years of eating nothing but stale cake, tea and cat hair. The worst part was that there was no one to notice. No one to care.

Ever since she was sent undercover on the most boring street in England, Arabella wished she had a different life. So, when the time came, she 'saved' Harry Potter from the Dementors. She had told him who she was, why she was there. This was in hope that Dumbledore would finally move her from that horrible street. Finally she received a letter, a week before Harry Potter's seventeenth birthday. The letter read that she was free to leave, free to do whatever she wished, free to live her life again. Arabella was so relieved. More relieved than she had ever felt in her life. She placed the letter on the small table beside her chair, kicked her feet up and took a long, deep breath. She felt, for the first time in years, relaxed and with a huge smile, she slowly closed her eyes and did not open them again.

Contrary to popular belief, Mad-Eye Moody was not the first casualty of Harry Potter's war. There is no way to tell who it was exactly. Was it his parents? Professor Quirrell? Cedric Diggory? Or even Sirius Black? All we know for sure, is that Arabella Figg died protecting Harry Potter. Not from curses or death eaters, not from Acromantulas or Werewolves, but from his family in all those little moments she could.

Arabella was not found until her muggle neighbours reported a smell from her house and the authorities found her surrounded by mourning cats. They had attempted to part them when taking her away, but the part-kneazle creatures would not leave their faithful owner. Even after the muggles found her, the wizarding world did not discover her death until a representative from the _new_ Order attempted to contact her, but instead was given the horrible shock that she had passed and directions to her grave. She had no family after her sister passed away and no one to contact. She was truly alone in the world when she left it. No one could have predicted that sending her to Little Whinging would be her last mission, her last moments, her last house.

Harry Potter never got to say good-bye to sad-old Mrs Figg, never got to tell her how much he appreciated all she did for him. After the war died down and the world went back to normal, Mr Potter returned to her house, to pay respect. With a small smile, Harry watched grimy cats lay outside the empty house. As he approached the younger ones recognised him and ran to meet him. The first was Tuffy, who jumped into his arms.  
"I miss her too," he said, softly. "Time to go to a new home," and with that he lead them away from Little Whinging forever.

* * *

 **A/N: Written for the 'Scavenger Hunt': _Arabella Figg_ , the 'If You Dare Challenge': _2\. Vague Misery,_ and the '365 Days of Drabble': _209\. Death._**


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